


you look like my next mistake

by chocobos



Series: 'cause we're young and we're reckless [1]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Kissing Booths, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 10:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3443768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocobos/pseuds/chocobos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s going to die here at this shitty fair held by his even shittier high school and the only thing he’ll have to show for it are too swollen lips and a bruised ego.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you look like my next mistake

**Author's Note:**

> ...it hasn't even been two days since i posted my first work in this fandom and here i am again. is this what productivity feels like? 
> 
> anyway, this is going to be the first fic set in a high school!au verse for the band of brothers gang. i know there are plenty of college!aus for this fandom, and i love them dearly, but high school!aus will always hold a special place in my heart so i figured, why not start an entire series of them for my favorite boys? i haven't worked out all the kinks yet (like whether or not they'll all be related or w/e) but im excited.
> 
> this is based on the fictional men, not the heroes, etc e t c 
> 
> this is unbeta'd, because i am an impatient piece of shit, and also, too shy to ask anyone to beta something this tiny. 
> 
> fun fact: this is probably the shortest fic i've written in about two years.

Babe isn't going to survive this.

He’s going to die here at this shitty fair held by his even shittier high school and the only thing he’ll have to show for it are too swollen lips and a bruised ego.

Which would be fine. He could live with that (there are worse ways to die, and Babe isn’t going to complain about it too much) if it weren’t for the fact that Gene Roe’s here, waiting in line -- in _Babe’s_ line -- expectantly, pursing his lips down at his phone. It’s not a secret to anyone in the whole damn school that Babe’s sort of halfway in love with Gene, has been since freshman year when he transferred here out of Louisiana and they bumped into each other in the hallway ("S'alright," Gene smiled at him, bright and forgiving, once Babe had apologized for bulldozing over him.

Babe may have fallen in love with him immediately).

So, all things considered, Babe is about four seconds away from an absolute meltdown.

“Guar,” Babe hisses, desperately trying to get the attention of his best friend and failing. Probably because Guarnere has his tongue shoved halfway down some girl’s throat. Babe doesn’t have the best timing, obviously.

“Can’t ya see I’m busy here,” Guarnere somehow manages to speak without taking his lips off the girl. Babe would be begrudgingly impressed if he wasn’t three seconds away from shitting his pants in disturbed terror.

Babe is about to scathingly tear him a new asshole, but then someone taps him on the shoulder. He remembers, a bit belatedly, that, oh yeah, he's kind of kissing the rest of the student body to help raise money for his JROTC class to go to the next competition. He's nothing if not resourceful, always willing to help out, and while Babe likes kissing just as much as the next guy, this is different. The only person Babe actually wants to kiss is  _Gene_.

And Gene happens to be in his line, three people away from the biggest embarrassment of Babe’s young life.

Babe can do this. Or, well, he can certainly die trying.

\---

 

Gene is getting closer and Babe is having a crisis.

Guarnere finally detaches himself from the girl who decided it would be worth it to blow her entire life’s saving on kissing him, and Babe is grateful for it. He’s tempted to reimburse her just for finally getting off of him, he’s so damn happy. “Now that your mouth isn’t occupied,” Babe spits, and fixes him with a look. “Look at my line. Two from the front.”

Guarnere stares at him for a while in confusion before he does what Babe asks. Babe isn’t surprised by the smirk that takes over his best friend’s face -- he, as well as everyone else, is painfully aware of Babe's schoolyard crush; in disgusting and astonishingly drunken detail, that is -- and sighs heavily. He’s probably not going to like what he has to say. “I don’t see nothin’ wrong with this, Babe.”

“What’s wrong,” Babe corrects, and really, Guarnere should know this. “Is that Gene is in my line. Gene Roe. Y’know--”

Guarnere rolls his eyes. “I know who he is, shithead,” he pauses for a second, considering. “I still don’t see nothin’ wrong. This’ll finally get you to pick out your balls from where they’ve been lodged in your own ass.”

Babe is not amused. He chooses to ignore it, though, because he so does not have the time for this right now. Instead, he says, "Why is he in my line, Bill? Why not Renee's? They're attached at the  _hip_." He's proud of how not-bitter he sounds.

Renee is sweet, the cute and kind French transfer student who came here last semester and has since taken the school on by storm. Despite every instinct screaming at him not to, Babe likes her, likes how witty and cute she is, how she shamelessly has everyone wrapped around her finger. She tutors him in French sometimes, actually  _insists_ on it, after she heard how abysmally awful he was during class one day. Smiles are always easier around her, and Babe should hate her for it, he really should, but he dotes on her like everyone else.

The whole school also knows that Gene and Renee are always together, walking through the hallways with their arms around each other, murmuring in French and successfully making Babe miserable. He doesn't like to think about it.

Guarnere considers this for a moment. “Guess it’s ‘cause you’re the fairest of ‘em all.”

“Fuck you,” Babe hisses petulantly. 

“Then stop whinin’ and do somethin’ about it,” Bill has a point. Babe doesn’t want him to have a point. “You’re not gonna change anything if you don’t try.” 

He dutifully ignores the condescending pat on the shoulder Bill gives him, and sighs. Gene is in his line, which has to mean something. Unless this is life's cruel version of playing a joke on him, which wouldn't be surprising, in all honestly. Life has never been this particularly kind to him.

Babe doesn't know what's more terrifying -- the chance that maybe Gene returns his feelings, or that he doesn't.

This was so much easier when he had himself convinced Gene was indifferent towards him.

 

\---

 

Soon enough Babe has to face Gene.

He makes it through enough awkward kisses to last a damn lifetime, from girls who are nervous and bright-eyed, fumbling fingers at his shoulders, to boys who are only doing this because their friends dared them to and they don't want to sacrifice their pride -- Babe enjoys these kisses least. Babe has seen it, kissed it, and experienced it all, so he's rightfully nervous by the time Gene makes it up to his stool.

He just really hopes it isn't written all over his face just how nervous he is.

Gene's even more devastating up close. He's dressed in a black hoodie and ripped jeans that do absolutely  _everything_ to hug the curve of his ass, and Babe is man enough to admit he salivates a little bit. His eyes are the kind of deep that Babe still can't decide whether they're blue or brown, and his hair is sticking out in disarrayed tufts, like he's spent the last ten minutes obsessively running his fingers through it. 

Babe tries not to think about what that means, and instead offers a shaky smile. “Welcome to our kissing booth,” he greets, lamely. He casts an abandoned look on the floor, hoping maybe that today will be his day and it’ll swallow him up.

(It doesn’t.)

“Hi,” Gene smiles, amused. Babe can see how his teeth are just slightly crooked from this up close, and it is debilitatingly adorable. He wonders what it says about him that he thinks teeth are adorable; probably nothing good.

“It’s a dollar a minute,” Babe says, once the silence has stretched on for too long. He folds his hands in his lap so he doesn’t try to do anything stupid, and manfully stares at a spot behind Gene’s shoulders. He will survive this. He will survive this, and then he will (much deserved, he thinks) break into his parents liquor cabinet and drink himself into a stupor when he gets home to deal with it. 

Gene holds his gaze for a few seconds before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a five. “S’this’ll do, then?”

Babe blinks. This is the most he’s gotten offered at once all day, and he must be hallucinating. There’s no way Gene would do this without extreme coercion. “You sure you wanna put that much down? That’s a lot of commitment, buddy.”

He’s pretty sure Gene’s eyes darken. “I’m sure.”

Babe takes a deep breath and tries not to die. “Alright, then.”

 

\---

 

The first press of lips is nervous, awkward.

Their teeth clack together uncomfortably, and the angle of their heads aren't quite right so they nose each other, which is just embarrassing. Babe's close to just calling it off, telling Gene thanks, but no thanks, he'll take his kissing  _without_ a side of mortification, though he appreciates the offer, when Gene's hands settle on his hips. His hands are warm enough to feel through the layers of clothing Babe has on, and he leans into them.

Babe blinks at him.

“Let’s try that again,” Gene rumbles, and then Babe manages to meet his lips without severely incapacitating him. 

Gene's lips are smooth and warm to the touch, tasting like the strawberry chapstick Babe will steal from his sister when she's not paying attention, and his stubble rubs pleasantly along Babe's cheeks whenever they change angle. It's not perfect; Babe's hands are clammy and gross when they settle over Gene's own, but he opens his legs up for the other boy to settle in between, so their hips press together.

It isn't perfect, but it _is_ Babe's favorite. 

When they eventually pull apart, he's panting, and his lips are even more swollen and bruised. He also may or may not be calculating the embarrassment of giving Gene an extra five dollars so they don't have to stop, but ultimately, decides against it. It's probably a bad thing to have their relationship being set upon trying to buy each other. And anyway, he's pretty sure they went over time anyway, though he's finding it extremely hard to care; if anything, he'll just sneak in a few extra dollars when no one's looking.

(He owes Gene that much, at least.)

“Uh,” Babe stammers. He’s never been good at this. Normally he’ll just pat them on the shoulder and wish them a good day, but this is the guy he’s been in lowkey in love with for three years and he’s a little bit at a loss.

Gene stares at him for a long time, long enough that Babe firmly decides his eyes are blue, not brown. He starts to fidget, unable to help it, but then Gene’s hands tighten around his hips. “Go out with me.”

Babe blinks. “Uh. Come again?”

Gene smiles. The sun is blinding, but somehow, even Gene has it beat. Babe's fingers twitch for a camera. “Been tryin’ to ask you out for months, Edward.”

“No, you haven’t.” Babe argues, because he would notice. He would definitely notice one of the hottest guys in school trying to ask him out. Babe is painfully embarrassing, and twice as oblivious, but even _he’s_ not that blind.

“I got ya a rose for Valentine’s Day last year,” Gene points out.

Gene didn’t get him a rose for Valentine’s Day last year. The only rose Babe got was from a secret admirer that was vaguely medical related and was signed ‘E.R.’. He searched around for weeks, asking damn near every student in their graduating class who the hell sent him a damn rose and why the hell they didn’t sign it with their actual name, but everyone just stared at him pitifully and laughed.

 _Oh_. Gene totally sent him a rose last year. “You sent me a rose last year.”

Gene smiles at him like he’s a particularly slow child, but it’s warm and fond, too, so Babe ignores how emasculating it is. “I did.”

“I am an idiot,” Babe proclaims loudly, and for once in his life doesn’t think about the consequences, and just leans forward and presses his lips to Gene’s.

This kiss is even better, tastes too damn sweet and a lot like a promise, and Babe can’t help it, he really can’t, when he pulls Gene even closer so he’s halfway in his lap.

Babe can vaguely hear Bill wolf whistling at them, so he dutifully lifts one of his hands from Gene’s waist and gives him the middle finger. It’s more empowering than it should be.

 

\---

 

Gene takes him out for coffee.

It’s a small hole-in-the-wall place he knows his sister goes to whenever her professors log her down with too much homework, with good coffee and even better service, and it takes Babe all of three minutes to understand why Gene brought him here. There’s a booth in the back corner that is obstructed from view, and after an intense stare-down with a college student with bulging eyes, they manage to grab it.

Gene grins at him as they sit down, mugs clutched in their hands. It's one of those retrograde coffee shops that still hasn't caught up with modern times and insists on using actual dish-ware. Babe likes it, though.

“I never asked,” Gene starts, “But how’d ‘he kissing booth go?”

“Surpassed our goal,” Babe says, proudly, because he is. This means he and his team can make it through to the next Raider competition, and they’ve been training for this all year. “Means we get’ta go to the competition.”

“What for?” Gene asks, curiously.

Babe doesn’t want to babble on too much about ROTC, because most people find it redundant and boring, but Gene genuinely looks interested. “Raiders.”

“Congratulations, ‘hen,” Gene beams at him. He reaches over to grasp on of Babe’s hands in his own. He immediately intertwines their fingers.

“Thanks,” Babe grins, honest, and then stops. “Do you wanna go?”

“What?”

“To the competition,” Babe clarifies, and bites his lips from the nerves. “Y’know. Sit in the girlfriend section, hold up a sign that says ‘You Can Do It, Babe’ and talk me up to everyone else?”

Gene’s expression is carefully blank for all of three seconds, before it clears to something brighter, something Babe could get used to. “S’don’t think that’ll work.”

Babe tries to swallow against the panic that rises in his throat. “Oh.”

Gene looks at him like he’s an idiot, hand tightening around Babe’s own. “Not ‘cause of that,” he amends, quickly, softly. “I ain’t never called you Babe in your life, Edward.”

Babe startles, and then laughs so hard his vision contorts. “Edward could work.”

The other boy presses a kiss into the corner of Babe’s mouth, pulling away with a smile. “Count on it.”

 

\---

 

When Babe breaks through the treeline during the first mile, Gene is there, as promised, crooked teeth shining in the sunlight.

His sign reads ‘Knock ‘Em Dead, Babe’ and Babe swears, he swears, he’s never seen anything as good as that.

 

\---

 

(Not even the victory tastes as sweet as the inside of Gene’s mouth.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> some random facts:
> 
> * yes the title is taken from a taylor swift song, and no i have absolutely no shame whatsoever about it.  
> * JROTC is a program within most american high schools where students immerse themselves in teachings from various military branches. i took it my freshman and sophomore year so i could get out of taking health/gym classes and ended up enjoying myself a lot. there are army rankings that you can work yourself up to, and most of the classes are taught by retired majors and corporals. within JROTC are various other activities you can partake in, such as color guard, the rifle squad, and raiders (which is the PT training of the program; idk if they offer it at every high school but in mine they did and the raiders were the equivalent of paratroopers, aka they were the best of the best. they ran 8+ miles a day).  
> * i have never actually seen a kissing booth irl so this is probably hella inaccurate. the only thing i have to go off of is she's the man.  
> * this was written in three hours all together. i am so sorry.


End file.
